Bella
by LongLostTwinOfIsabellaSwan
Summary: Twilight had passed. The new moon was out. ...It is time for a new and different beginning. [SPOILERS: New Moon. Altered storyline.]
1. Bella

Bella

_Bella, empty and tearless, is no Bella at all..._

The day that Isabella Swan walked into my garage was the day that changed my life forever.

And as a vampire, I can tell you quite sincerely, that that is saying something.

The day was like any other, really. The sky was dark, as if the clouds were so heavy with rain that they were about to break open above us, although it was dry outside. There wasn't even any wind. Yet I wouldn't call it peaceful, really. My life is never peaceful, even at its dullest.

I was working on a car, as I always am, whether I have any repairs to complete or not. This one was a real beauty—and though I can usually remember everything about every car I ever see, and more about the ones I actively work on, to this day I cannot recall even what color this one was, much less the year, model, or what I was doing to it.

Bella stepped into my shop, the large front door halfway open and high enough for a shorter person (say, a girl) to walk under it comfortably. She hardly even noticed, much less flinched, as most of my customers do. Instantly I was intrigued. I paused in my work and stood straight up, watching her curiously. You would think that I had seen God himself with the way I was so frozen. Usually I am a very animated person, especially around people, being empathic and all. One good thing about feeling the emotions of others is being around humans. They aresuch chaotic creatures, full of life, even when they are unhappy or mourning or apathetic.

But not this one. And I reflected that. People I've known over the years always say that I am like a mirror for the soul. I can only remember ever being this still before I gave myself completely over to my "special ability", and when I am only in the presence of one other vampire who is either meditating or empty.

At first I thought she was one of my kind, since I could feel nothing radiating off of her. Literally. But no, as she got closer I smelled her, and instantly I became confused. She was human alright; with a slightly flowery scent about her, very pleasant; and delicious blood flowing through her veins, better than that of most. But it was wrong, all wrong. She was so _empty_. If she was a vampire like me I would say she was cold, but she wasn't. Cold implies emotions and life frozen beneath the surface. She wasn't warm; it was as if she had no blood. And she wasn't cold; it was as if she had no soul.

I shivered involuntarily.

"How may I help you?" I instantly queried, a long-since natural response. Before this place, this sunless sky there had been other, sunless skies, and always it was the same; I was the mechanic everybody loved.

She was standing in front of me, on the other side of the car that was some dark color—that is as much as I can narrow it down. And only because of how it affected _her_. For the longest time she didn't say anything, and I shifted nervously. Which was almost as odd as my shiver. As odd as I am for a vampire, not even I ever act so...so..._human_.

In that way, I figured later, Bella was perfect to find me. We were opposites.

Finally she spoke in a flat, never-living-never-dead voice, infinitely polite and perfectly rehearsed, "My name is Isabella Swan. I am looking for Kayne Sarain." She looked up at me then, her eyes catching mine, a slight question in the brown depths she would never translate into inflected, _human_ speech.

Her eyes. Gods, they hit me hard. I nearly fell over, instead staying perfectly still as she did. They were so deep, not quite black, but still dark. Like some odd gemstone. If they were alive they would belong to a most beautiful soul. But I saw no glimmer of life—no glimmer of anything, not even of reflected light.

I took a deep breath and spoke back in a flat voice I despise, but that was somehow deeper than her own. "I go by Kay. How may I help you, Bella?" I don't know what possessed me to call her that—probably the same oddness that made me forget all about the car of that moment. It was as

if I knew...perhaps I did. I believe in more now than I ever did then, and that is _definitely_ saying something.

She reacted to my use of her proffered nickname, if only for an instant. Pain flashed in her eyes so bright and so vivid that they almost went mournfully red. It was as if a fish skimmed close to the surface of black water and disappeared even as its slight ripples diminished. At the time I wasn't even sure I had seen it. The life that I caught a glimpse of was more painful than the emptiness.

"Hello, Kay," she said, the false smile she wore more painful than the flat greeting. "I need something from you."

The way she said that made me break away from her aching spell; my brow creased and I frowned in confusion. Instantly I knew she wasn't after a car, and that I was the only one who could help her.

I swallowed, instantly tense and wary. The atmosphere thickened, though Bella didn't seem to notice. My words were careful, hers unchanging, but we both knew things weren't quite the same.

"What do you need, Miss Bella?" I asked, trying for nonchalant, even adding a slight Southern accent to the sentence, to go with the "miss" bit I threw in for some false calm. It reminded me much of my own upbringing, which was such a pleasant prospect that I was able to resist her gaping emptiness a bit better.

She blinked slowly, and I wondered if she had before that moment. She must have, but I couldn't honestly remember. I'm fairly sure _I_ hadn't. "I need a vampire," she blurted out, although there was nothing rushed or spontaneous about her words. Which made them all the more eerie.

I laughed nervously, my resolve breaking. The Southern accent came on thicker, and I tried to brush it off. It didn't work; I sounded pathetic and childish to my own ears. "Now, now, everyone knows there ain't no such thing as vampires," I drawled.

Bella was hard as rock. Harder. Hard and cold as diamond, because I was rock, and I was breaking. Crumbling. She wasn't.

"Yes there are. I need to become one."

My eyes widened in spite of myself at that moment. _That_ I was not expecting. Ten points for Bella, negative one hundred for me; she was winning by a long-shot. "What?" I whispered, suddenly intense and dark as I leaned forward, my hands on the shiny surface of the hood before me, inbetween us. So it was a dark, new car. Not much to go on, not that it matters.

She did not whisper, did not move, was not affected in any way by me...by anything, really. "I need you to turn me into a vampire, Kayne."

I snorted. I could play this off. It wasn't any big secret that I lived an underground nightlife; so I slept sometime during the day, the people around me assumed. When I was seen too much in the bright hours I snuck off to hunt, so that nobody would realize I didn't sleep. Beyond perfect for those sunny days on which I was nowhere to be found. She could easily know that...

I knew that wasn't true, but desperately I tried like a good little country girl always does.

"I reckon you oughtta be going, Miss. It's clear you are uninterested in my wares, and seeing as how there ain't no such thing as v—"

She cut me off. "There is no need to lie to me. I know what you are."

I snorted again. "Very impressive. You asked around and found out that I was a member of the gothic underground. There ain't no such thing as _real_ v—"

She cut me off again. Only now do I know that she was halting the use of the word by anyone but herself. "Turn me."

I sighed. And stayed silent.

"I need you to turn me into a vampire," she repeated her earlier statement, word for word.

I shook my head, suddenly feeling as weary as my couple hundred years warranted by any human's standards. "No, you don't," I assured her softly.

Bella didn't argue. "I _need_ you to turn me into a vampire."

The first bit of inflection I ever heard from her had me looking up, alert. I searched critically for that flash of light the emphasis must have brought on, as if my life depended on it, but it was already gone. Slippery fish.

I met her gaze, and said in a voice softer than _I_ _should _have been able to manage, "Why?" I almost sounded miserable, as if I was the one about to cry. I cleared my throat.

It was pointless. Bella wasn't elusive. She told me the truth as I asked. I almost wish I hadn't.

"Because I fell in love with a vampire. And he seemed to fall in love with me. But just as things were beyond perfect, his brother tried to attack me, and he got scared for my life. He and his family, my family, left, leaving no traces of their existence behind. And, just like that, they were gone. Nothing left but memories. I got lost inside myself. I went numb. For months I did not resurface. I did not want to remember, I refused to forget. And then came along the most perfect outlet. In danger I would hear his voice again, angry and beautiful, warning me, keeping me safe. I needed to hear his voice again, and again, so I approached the lion's den—both figurative and literal—again and again. I was happy. The pain was still horrible, but I was stronger. It didn't hurt to remember him like that. More time passed, his voice faded away. Now..." She paused for the first time in her whole monologue, the only proof I needed. "I can't go on like this. I wanted to be a vampire when I had him, and I want it more now that I don't. I waited, lingered, for my parents, my few remaining loved ones, not for his return. Now I'm supposed to be in college. But I don't want a human life, no matter what he wanted. So if I become a vampire he can't run away from me. He'll be mad, but he'll have to accept me. I'll be beautiful and worthy of him. You're the first one I've found who can help me. Who doesn't know him, who might not refuse.

"Please."

If I hadn't already been sobbing by that point I would have lost my composure at her sincere, numb rather than empty, plea. As it was I was aching all over, my heart ready to burst, so intense was my empathy. She wasn't feeling it, but I was. I had never seen this woman before in my life, but suddenly, we were closer than sisters. I sobbed, and she waited.

When I resurfaced, wishing that I really could cry and have tears to wipe away in some form of closure, even while knowing that there was none to be had, still sniffling, it was dark out—the dark of night. Twilight had passed. The new moon was out. I felt more alone than usual. My face felt red and splotchy—an impossibility for a vampire.

Well, for a vampire who wasn't raised a country gal who's best features were her emotions and feelings. It's the thought that counts, anyway. (Stupid cold, hard, bloodless skin.)

I swallowed and took a deep breath I didn't need. I nodded and sniffled some more, the sleeves of my undershirt damp. I tugged a half-clean rag from my dusty overalls and said in an oddly calm and friendly voice, "Would you like something to eat?"


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

I felt intimidated just _speaking_ to her; inviting her into my home nearly gave me a heart-attack—and my heart stopped beating years ago.

The entire set-up was beyond unnerving.

The basic premise was odd and unnatural in and of itself. A vampire and a human, together, under the same roof, living in the same space. In such a setting, there is expected to be one that is cold and one that is warm. In that we were perfectly fine. But also in that we shift into the impossible. For the warmest thing under my roof was me, because of my personality, and the coldest was Bella, because of hers. Our bodies had nothing to do with it, and suddenly we were _the_ freaks of nature.

Getting her something to eat wasn't as difficult as it perhaps should have been. I still had some leftover human food in my refrigerator from the last time I had had visitors, which I don't have often, so that was a pleasant coincidence. I fetched her some water and quickly prepared a sandwich. She ate without looking at me, or seeming to notice or care what the food was. A more human instinct I had never seen—and a less human reaction I had never witnessed.

When she was done she thanked me politely, but I shivered at the words. They were so _blank_ it almost hurt me to hear them. I just nodded, not trusting myself to respond.

I returned yet again after cleaning up and sat across from her. This time there was nothing to stave off the awkward silence, no excuse to give myself or the situation for her lack of speech. Bella's eyes were on me, out of focus; I would call them bored, but it's hard to be bored when you don't care. I fidgeted, feeling awkward. I knew that if any other of my kind could see me they would laugh at my behavior. I, a vampire, member of the superior race, was being overpowered by a mere human, a mortal, my intended food supply that was equivalent to cattle? It was absurd, even in my eyes, but that did nothing to change my reactions.

Finally, when the silence threatened to overwhelm me, I spoke up. "Bella, tell me more about this v—" I caught myself, so that she wouldn't have to "—these people you want to change for. You said you fell in love with someone, and he left, with his family?" My speech slowed; I felt uncomfortable in her gaze. Even more than that, I wondered if it was all right for me to mention them. What if she reacted badly to hearing them mentioned, even if not by name?

But my fears—or perhaps hopes—were wasted. She was as dead as ever when she complied with my request. "He lived with his father and mother figures, as well as others like him, adopted children; two male and one female."

I nodded. "And you said that you wanted to change before now—before he left. Why didn't you change then?" It seemed to me that things would have been so much easier if she had just been changed, no longer a possible source of food to be worried over and protected.

"He didn't want me to." The "he" she referred to was obvious.

I frowned. That didn't make any sense. "That doesn't make sense...if he loved you, and it would be easier, and you could be equal and together in all ways, why didn't he—?" I struggled to grasp the senseless concept, and failed miserably. I suppose I am too practical and straightforward for my own good sometimes.

"He feared for my soul. He believed that he didn't have one, that he was no longer truly alive, no longer capable to die. He didn't want me to give up my life for him, and he certainly didn't want me to give up the afterlife. He wanted me to grow old, live a human life, and then die as I was supposed to. He didn't think that I would linger; he figured that as a human I would move on without him. That I wouldn't be as tied down to him as I am, because he knows humans so well, and they are predictable."

Somehow I doubted very strongly that Bella was anything like a "normal" human being by that definition; the vibes coming off her screamed "unpredictable" and "unique"—even if those feelings were buried under the void of nothingness. Still, I nodded again. "Earlier you mentioned that his brother tried to attack you—?" I recalled, probing even deeper.

She nodded minutely. "Jasper, as he was called, was the newest to their way of life. He wasn't as controlled as the others. It was my eighteenth birthday. I got a papercut, and he tried to kill me. Then Edward knocked me back, and cut my arm open. It got worse. Afterwards Edward—" She paused; the taste of his name must have been odd for her; the slip-up gave me hope for the buried Bella to be reborn; I held my unnecessary breath, and she continued "—was upset by this. He argued himself into leaving me. And then he did." Bella's voice trailed off.

I sat still, stunned. There was so much I wanted to know—everything, I wanted to know everything—and so many questions were flooding through me that I had the oddest urge to keep her talking forever, until I knew all about her, until I understood her; then I could unlock the mystery that plagued me, that I couldn't identify...

After a bit of a long pause I spoke up again. "I'll make you a promise, Bella. I will change you if you spend time here with me where I can learn more about you. I want to know everything about your story before I commit to any everlasting decisions—agreed?"

Bella nodded, her eyes still blank. "Agreed."

In truth, I just wanted to see her smile, see her bright and happy like I sensed she could be—I had the oddest feeling that if she became a vampire in her current state of mind she would be trapped in it forever. Humans can change, so easily, when given the right motivation (which would be more extreme for this one than most, but less so than it would be for her as a vampire). I wanted her to be whole and healed before I froze her in time and place."Come with me—I'll prepare your room."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Now that I had decided on a plan of action, being around Bella wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been before. Nothing had changed, of course—not at first—but for some reason I cannot explain, I could feel some part of her _relaxing_, as if she was _ready_ to have her end goal reached and her life rebuilt and returned to her, though it was not yet time.

At least, that's what I was hoping she was feeling, because I didn't want her to suffer longer than she absolutely "had" to.

It was ridiculous, really, even insane for me to think about Bella and feel about Bella the way I did. I tried to convince myself of that plainly obvious fact, to no avail. I had known her, what, a day? One measly little day in a life-span of eternity, and I couldn't get her out of my head. I couldn't stop feeling as if we were connected, like siblings, yin and yang, black and white. Me—the vampire who thinks and acts like a human. Her—the human who thinks and acts like a vampire.

It was egotistical of me, that much was obvious. The fact was made even more prevalent when I caught myself believing that I was the best thing that had ever happened to her. Afterall, I had cried for her, and I would now care for her, and change her back into what she once was so that I could turn her into a _monster_ and rejoin her with her one true love—

Realizing what my mind was thinking and my heart was believing without my permission made me angry. I didn't have anyone to rightfully be angry at; I didn't feel exactly like I should be angry at someone else. Of course it was my fault, but I wouldn't be thinking such things if Bella was good and whole, now would I? It was foul of me, channeling my own angers and shame away from myself by comparing myself to someone I didn't know or understand. Petty and childish—but effective. I could deal with my own issues later; whether it was healthy or not, my life was Bella now.

Not that it was hard to change the focus of my existence. It shouldn't be, since I am in fact an everlasting vampire without someone to love eternally. To put it in the barest and rudest of terms, vampires are constantly looking for distractions, something to occupy their time, and Bella was mine. But she was more than a hobby—far more. Bella was special, that much no one could deny, and now knowing exactly how special made me all the more determined to keep her around and help her heal before granting her wish.

The first day I woke her up at noon, not sure of how long she wanted to sleep. I had led her to her room a little after night had fallen, and she laid down shortly thereafter. I couldn't be sure of when she fell asleep for the simple fact that she was not one to express any emotion or change, even in her breathing or heartbeat, though I figured it didn't take her long. In order to be kept up one would have to have emotions to sustain the required, extended restlessness.

She had changed into some clothes I had scrounged up for her to go to sleep, and in the morning she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, took a bath—did everything she needed to take care of herself properly—before changing into fresh clothes that were actually mine. From there I led her back down to the kitchen to make her something to eat.

I had gone shopping a bit the night before, and as I was about to figure out something to do—I could only cook a few things: eggs, bacon, grits, etc; I wasn't sure what she wanted, and that had been worrying me—when she put her hand on my shoulder. A moment of wordless communication passed between us then, and though her eyes betrayed nothing but the infinite numbness I was expecting, there was _something_ there. I didn't understand it, and so stunned I didn't push against her. She set about making herself something to eat.

Relieved, and surprised, I sat down at my small kitchen table and watched her for a long moment. She had found some thick Texas-style bread and then proceeded to cut out holes in them and fry them up with eggs and peppers. I was impressed, beyond a doubt, and couldn't keep silent for long. As she flipped her two slices over for the first time (she must have been hungry) I blurted out, "You can cook?"

Bella nodded, everything about her slow, deliberate, even rhythmic. She would make a fantastic vampiress, I decided. "It's one of my talents." She shrugged, although that might have been to address a kink in her back instead of her statement. "I cooked for my mother growing up, three meals a day for my father and myself when I lived with him, and then did the same for my mother and her husband when I moved back with them, until school let out and I left and ended up here."

Her voice was a soft whisper, almost painfully beautiful—she would also make an overwhelming vampire. Although I suppose that my opinion didn't matter much, seeing as how easily affected I obviously am.

"Didn't leave much room for leftovers, eh," I grunted, staring down at the tile floor thoughtfully.

A long silence dragged on, and I thought that she had either not heard me or just wasn't going to answer, before she whispered, "I never served leftovers. I always needed something else to do."

"Did you always cook all three meals?" I responded quietly with a question, intent.

She paused before answering. "Not...before."

The next pause was pregnant. Luckily I was observant, since I'm a vampire, because if I was my normal human self...that could have ended badly.

The implication wasn't too clear, but it was there, clouded and to be examined. Something else to do...rather than think about the one that left her. Needed...to keep from going insane. To keep from being overwhelmed? Overwhelmed by what? Emotion?—or a manifestation that stemmed from pain and morphed into something much more horrible?

What could be more horrible?...A nightmare?

The room was silent except for the crackling and the sizzling of the oil in the large cast iron skillet (no Southern girl, human or otherwise, should _ever_ be without a cast-iron skillet) frying Bella's breakfast to perfection. I almost missed being human at times like these, when the vaguest of recollections come to me, and I remember how delicious warm, simple foods were—fried eggs, fried bacon, grits with sugar, and honey if we behaved—and how comforting the kitchen was, Mama cooking and scolding us little rascals, her children, as we flooded the small house trying to steal sweets and beat on one another. Now all I had were the years ahead, and the moment I was currently living. Some things last forever—blood isn't one of them, and neither is cold.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't notice Bella as she sat across from me with her plate of food and a glass of water. I cursed myself incessantly as she dug in; I had forgotten to buy orange juice, or even milk, of all things!

"I'm sorry," I murmured, unnecessarily embarrassed by my oversight. "I forgot to get you something else—_anything_ else—to drink." Probably had something to do with my own beverage preferences.

Bella looked at me, chewing slowly, blinked once...twice, and then spoke. "It's fine. It doesn't matter. It's good that you remembered I have to eat regularly."

I frowned; was that a joke? It couldn't be; she wasn't smiling, or even inflecting, but the dry sarcasm—however faded—was still there. Or so I thought. It was hard to tell, but a skeleton is better than a ghost, right?

When she was done eating Bella got up and rinsed her plate off, scrubbing the grease away from all dishes thoroughly, then taking the time to dry each one, shining them as far as I could tell, and then _putting them away_. I was dumbstruck, though not as utterly as I had been the day before. I couldn't comprehend her level of emptiness, and I didn't want to—even her determination and stubbornness, however passive, surprised and impressed me. Why go on living when you were so gone? We could all stand to learn a thing or two from this remarkable little lady.

Then I began to grow fidgety, each second bringing us closer to when she would be out of things to do and I would be forced to find something to occupy her time—it was my house, she was my guest; it was my plan, she was going along with it—while I had _no idea_ as to what that something should be. I hadn't even _thought_ of it before, despite my endless existence and thinking time. That only fueled my inner anger and made me start to _hate_ the decided "source".

When she was done with the dishes she turned to me, waiting. I gnawed on my lip nervously, and I knew that if I could I would have broken out into a cold sweat right about then.

Bella was patient, and not even my rapid mental functions could prevent a few seconds of vast silence passing before I could satisfy the need for a plan.

"Would you like to come with me to work in the garage?" I suggested lamely, nervously, more unsure of myself than any vampire should ever be.

Bella nodded, and I turned around, grateful for the plan of action, and began to lead her out of the main house—which was small, closer to a shack, and barren—and back into the garage in which we had first met—which was large, generously equipt, and the best, and only, one for miles.

My garage was more than a garage; far more. It was my workshop, my business center, my hobby, my distraction, my _life_. That much was painfully obvious for anyone to see as soon as you walked in—no, even before that: when you first came into view of it.

First of all, the place was huge. Gray and made of sheeted metal (here's a bit of trivia: I built it all myself, pretending to have hired others, which I easily could since the location is so remote, and so now it feels even more precious to me), tall and wide. Inside I stored my equipment, my tools, my cars and my other vehicles, including some trucks and a few motorcycles. There was even a little office and a storage room and an unplugged refrigerator for show. I'd probably have to start actually using it, for Bella. It was weird thinking of her as a human with needs and frailties and all the rest.

I noticed that Bella was examining her surroundings when she bumped into me, her face tilted up, eyes wide and taking in everything. I smiled and moved out of her way, watching her as opposed to following her gaze. It was an amazing sight, I knew, and already improvement was evident in her. Maybe there was hope for her, afterall, even if all she had left was me.

I turned to one of three cars out in the open—this one I was just replacing a single part in, even more of a piece of cake than my work usually is, for me. I patted the hood tenderly; I really liked that car, it was a great car I had built up myself, from scratch, and finally had the last part I needed (which had been a bit hard to find).

I was turning back to my baby with the part in hand, only to discover that Bella was staring at both me and it. This unnerved me, especially since she seemed so intent, so _bright_, even. I realized right then and there that if there was one thing Bella was not, it was dead. Dead in the functioning sense of the word. Even empty and beyond cold, she was never dead; she was no zombie. I could tell that she had persevered for her parents. A lesser person would have wallowed.

"Um...I just have to put this one last part in, if you want to do something else—" I stated, clearing my throat, almost cursing my lack of humanity. Some things are impossible to do without a heartbeat, working glands, the typical bodily fluids, etc.

Bella shook her head minutely, as she always did. "No, it's no problem. A 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?"

Her words held no emotion, but my look made up for that. I just blinked at her once...twice...thrice...six times, mouth agape, before shrilly croaking out, "How did you know?"

She shrugged, but her posture held something I couldn't quite place. Her hand skimmed over the surface of the hood, fingers barely touching the glossy surface.

I frowned. "Uh...Bella?"

She turned to me, one eyebrow raised infinitesimally.

"Are you into cars?"

Bella shook her head lightly, and I got the feeling that if she was her normal self she would have smiled or laughed at the thought. "Not at all. I trust myself around mechanics about as much as I trust myself around electronics. Too much math and too many dangerous parts. My best friend was into cars." She was looking down by then, and once more I sensed that dash of sarcasm bordering on humor—her mind was like a graveyard haunted by ghosts, and that irked me. My eye twitched; having someone around without having their emotions was acting as a black hole to my own feelings, leaving me drained and borderline depressed-psychotic.

"What happened to him?" I asked softly. I didn't miss the past tense when she spoke of her friend—was he dead?

She turned to me, no shrug this time, no bodily movement of any sort. "He's not dead."

It was as if she had read my mind, and that in and of itself was very, _very_ creepy. "Oh..." I frowned, growing more frustrated by her lack of an answer than I should have. "What happened to y'all?"

Bella tilted her head to one side, and I figured that that was what she was doing instead of allowing her mouth to twitch into a half-smile.

"Did the two of you fall out when you...changed?"

I guessed, and I was _really_ wrong, apparently, to induce such a "strong" reaction (for that one, anyway). Bella swung her head all the way to one side and then all the way to the other and then back to its original position. How a human could swish around their blood so much and _not_ _seem_ human was beyond me. "We didn't become friends until four months after Edward left."

Now I knew I was getting somewhere! This was vital, that much was obvious. I leaned forward, the master cylinder in my hand, and gazed up at Bella. "What was his name?"

"His name _is_ Jacob."

The inflection was faint, but it was there. My eyes widened even further, but I forced myself not to dwell on the fact. It was a small victory, hardly even a change—the tone hadn't reached her eyes—and if I fussed over it I would not only miss my chance, I might also scare it away. So I kept talking.

"So...Jacob..." I mused, my mind working swiftly to supplement the conversation and keep her going. "Why did you become friends when you did?"

Bella walked around the car and pulled a short but unsullied stool out from beneath one of my workbenches—a stool I had forgotten even existed—and placed it a few feet from me, standing alone on the dirt floor. Her hands folded in her lap and she stared at herself in the surface of the car as she spoke.

"I needed a mechanic. I had found these two motorcycles, after my first brush with danger, and they were perfect for my 'hearing voices' objective. I got them for free, but they weren't in working condition. The mechanic in the nearest town was far too expensive—it would have been cheaper to take it to the nearest city, which was too far away. But then I remembered Jake—Jacob Black. His father was a friend of my father. I took them to him, offering him one of them as payment, and I would even buy the necessary parts. Finally he gave into that deal, and so he started working on them.

"I would hang out at his house when he worked on the bikes. It was...fun. I had a great time, even laughed and meant it, when I was around him. He was only sixteen, but he wasn't as young or immature as he could have been. We started doing our homework together, too, and hanging out a lot, whether or not we were working on the bikes. Because of Jake I regained my will to live, my love of life, smiling and laughing for the first time in a long time.

"Even Charlie noticed the difference. He was the reason I had even found out about the voice I could hear; he pointed out my...odd behavior, and so I went out with a friend, did something stupid, and wanted more. He was so happy to see me happy, for the first time in a long time. It...tortured him...seeing me the way I was. Empty..."

Bella paused there, and I could feel the presence of so many things going unsaid. I hungered to hear, to _know_ more, but I didn't want to push it. Instead I tucked away these questions to explore some other time.

"It wasn't the same, of course," she continued, her voice a whisper, painful to hear in it a lack of emotion that _should_ have been there; even more painful that the emotion itself would have been. "Jacob was no substitute. The hole in my heart was still there. But the pain...dulled somehow. Ached, but became easier to push aside. He made me strong. But...in time being with him produced a new hurt."

I had to push forward on _that_; it was too obvious and poignant not to. "What new hurt?"

She looked up at me, and for a moment her eyes seemed lighter, and a glimmer of pain lingered a millisecond longer than it had before. "Jacob loved me, wanted to be with me. I wasn't ready, of course, but he was...'willing to wait'."

This bothered her more than it should have; Bella wasn't peeved _at_ Jacob, or _because_ of Jacob, not directly.

"Why was that such a bad thing?"

Looking back on it, some divine power must have been blessing me every step of the way, because I always knew the exact question to ask and precisely how to word it—such as at that moment (and later, even when it seemed as if I asked the wrong question at first, the action always yielded the best possible results). "Because I was broken!"

Her outburst bordered on loud, and the sound echoed through the metal garage as more of her words should have, though they didn't for the lack of proper human inflection. I flinched back, shocked and surprised, my eyes wide. Silence thrummed for prolonged second after second.

Bella lowered her gaze. "Damaged. I was damaged goods, no longer whole, irrevocably broken. He could never heal me, never change me back into what I once was. But he didn't see that. He didn't see the truth. It would be wrong, dishonest, horrible of me to give in, to let me have me, though it would have been easier...I wasn't worth it."

Her voice lowered to a whisper before fading away.

I inched closer to her, making sure to be as non-threatening and gentle as was inhumanly possible. "Why didn't you let him in?"

Bella looked up at her, her eyes darker than before, unbearable sadness overwhelming my very soul—this wasn't all of her pain, only a small slice of it, the second largest slice that couldn't even compare to the agony I would have to work much harder to see.

"I didn't deserve him, or the reprieve that he could bring. He deserved better than the broken me. Beyond that...I could never love him as I had loved Edward, and I didn't want to deprive him of the real deal, the love that I had felt, the love that he should have returned just as strongly. Jacob was too good for the half-assed emotions I felt for him, and I know that he should have a chance to get over me and find someone that would make him truly happy."

In an instant I was up and standing by her side. My hand rested on her shoulder lightly, and I could have sworn that she leaned into the comforting touch just a little bit. "You loved him." It was a statement, not a question.

Her voice was equally soft. "I still do. It hurt to leave."

I nodded, understanding, but Bella wasn't looking at me. She was staring at the floor. Her need to cry—her _want_ to cry—overwhelmed me even more than it had the first time she opened up to me. Or perhaps I was just confusing my own need, my own want for hers. Bella was too buried, more than likely, to feel those things at that time. It didn't matter. Her lack of tears, her lack of emotion, was painful when face-to-face with her potent memories.

I lifted her up easily and pulled her into a firm hug, careful to be gentle. I probably bruised her, regardless, but she never complained. She didn't hold me in return, nor did she stop me or push me away or resist in any way, shape, or form, and for the first time in all of my life—human or vampire—I felt small, weak, and overwhelmed, unable to overcome. I couldn't do it, and in that moment, I knew I was the greatest kind of failure.

I sobbed into Bella's shoulder, and time passed.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: Oh my God, I'm actually updating! I know, everyone is going to freak, then kill me. Thank God most of you don't know where I live! I would like to thank Julia for contacting me and reminding me of my guilt, hence why I got this done. This is the only story I feel is good enough to continue, what with my AP classes and novel occupying my time, but I plan on returning to everything. Just you wait! I will make it happen. (At least it hasn't been a whole year. Heh heh...) Anyways, I hope you enjoy. And pray for me to get my internet back soon, because I had to wait and struggle to get this on, because my dad computer sucks. Now, that's enough talk. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

A week passed before Bella and I talked again about anything significant. And, considering her empty state of mind, that meant that we didn't really talk to one another for seven days.

But we were hardly ever apart from each other, even in those long, barren silences.

On the afternoon of our first full day together I asked her how she had gotten to my garage (leaving how she had found me for another day) and she told me that she had bought a beat-up old truck at a nearby city, which she left parked about half a mile from my place. We took a little trip out to it in complete silence.

The car was beat-up and old alright. It had more rust on it than paint, and it was so large and ugly I couldn't even determine what year and model it was. It surprised me; I had never pictured Bella as a truck kindof girl. Shows what I know, eh? It wasn't even worth the effort it would take to haul back to my garage. However, the trunk and the backseat were full of various bags and possessions, and it would be easier to take it all up in one trip, so to avoid losing anything I half-pushed half-pulled it all the way back with Bella following behind me. In this way only one trip was necessary, not that we didn't have the extra time on our hands.

Once the truck—an old Chevy, perhaps, that had once been some shade of red, blue, or green—was in my garage I opened the front door and started unloading the various boxes and suitcases I found within. They weren't very heavy, and when I checked to see why that was I realized that most of the volume of the luggage wasn't actually luggage, it was bubble wrap and wads of cotton and useless newspaper dating back six months at the most and two weeks at the most recent. I turned to Bella, who was sitting in the back, the bed of the truck, with an incredulous look in my eyes.

I didn't speak, and at first I didn't think she was going to, although it wasn't necessary for the simplicity of the words she spoke. "Yes, what?"

My mouth twisted in confusion and I stared down at the handful of paper in my hand that had been filling up a leather briefcase, within which I could see a single pair of shoes—ones that looked so bright, so new, that I was sure they had never been worn. Not that they were Bella's style; too bright, too pink.

I picked them up gingerly and held them up for her to see. But she was already looking away. I bit my lip and decided to let it go...for now. Instead I proceeded to pile up the random padding in an empty corner of my garage and place her belongings in a more practical manner in the large boxes she had in the back. In the end none of her suitcases had been necessary; only three large boxes that hardly weighed anything (although Bella would struggle with the size of them).

The oddest item I came across—although I do not mean that to demean the oddity of her other possessions—filled up one entire box all by itself. It wasn't until later that I realized the large dress held within it two smaller, more sexy and revealing dresses. The large dress was a very pleasant shade of blue I was sure would look fantastic on Bella, although the shoes that went along with it were a death trap. Definitely something she only wore once.

I wondered why she had kept them, then. Then I realized they must be mementoes. Curiosity started to plague me like a bad itch as I moved her things into her new room, which seemed so homely in comparison to the magnificence the dresses brought into it. I felt grungy.

"Prom," she said quietly. I started, finally realizing that I had been staring at the dress for a prolonged period of time. I folded it carefully back into the box, the thought of a blush almost making me feel physically warm.

"I can't believe you'd wear something like this," I muttered. Somehow she heard me.

"Alice made me. Rosalie and her looked better in theirs, of course. I had my cast on, and only one shoe."

She stopped talking, and I didn't prod any further. There would be more time for that later.

Amongst her other possessions I found a very empty album, sortof like a scrapbook. I didn't look at the pictures, deciding to save that for another time. Also an age-old box of uneaten, unopened Valentine's Day candy hearts, an outdated camera, two cookbooks full of fish recipes, and a pretty shirt of white eyelet lace. Nothing else stood out to me; just some blankets, a few clothes like the ones she had come in, a pair of rain boots, hiking boots, and tennis shoes, along with the black boots she already had on.

Throughout the rest of the week our routine was simple, and although I know why I didn't grow bored, I still don't understand why she didn't. In the morning she would clean herself up and get dressed, then make herself breakfast with me in the kitchen. After that we'd go down to my garage and I'd work on some car or some part; occasionally I would even have a customer. She would just sit in her stool, near the entryway but still in shadow. For lunch she would make herself a simple sandwich and on occasion I would take her for a ride in one of my trucks—but never one of the nicer, faster cars. Dinner was much the same as breakfast. Then we'd watch the sun set and the night settle in, and she would go to bed. The only deviation came on the two sunny days we had—a new record—when we would take a hike in the woods, although she refused to visit the meadows for some reason, or the lake surrounded by bona fide sand. At night I would sit outside her room, listen to her sleep, and try to figure out when the switch over to unconsciousness came. Never would I hear her make even a single noise to indicate any sort of dream activity.

On our one week anniversary something changed, suddenly. It was my fault, initially. I hadn't hunted in far too long; I tried to hold it off, but failed. So just as the sun was rising (though it was hard to tell with the thick layer of clouds obscuring one's view of it) I dashed off and devoured the first animal I came across, a rather large doe that had wandered too close. Even so, when I returned Bella was already awake—in fact, she had already dressed, and eaten. She sat in her usual stool, now outside instead of in, although only slightly, fiddling idly with a spare, blackened car part with a sort of gentle, slow grace that stunned me.

She looked up as I approached. "I had almost forgotten," she mused in a small voice, her eyes back to the old cylinder.

I sat down before her, my legs crossed. "Almost forgotten what?" I asked breathlessly, forgetting to take in a sufficient breath with which to speak.

She raked her teeth over her lip slowly before answering. "It was so easy to forget what you are...since we never touch."

Something in Bella's eyes unnerved me. I tried to lighten the mood. "That's funny...do many humans where you come from sparkle in the sun?" I teased.

Of course she didn't laugh. Although, I reminded myself, I shouldn't have expected anything different, I was, in truth, quite disappointed. Apparently I had been deluding myself when I thought she was getting better already. My pride, my arrogance, my egotism was catching up with me. I'd have to be careful, or else it wouldn't be my own life I'd ruin.

"What were they like?"

"What were who like?" Bella murmured. Her voice sounded lofty, and if I hadn't known better I would have said that there was something wrong, inept, _lacking_ in her brain functions. But I knew better. She was asking who I wanted to know about—in other words, would she have to face the almost-pain brought on by thinking of Edward?

I shrugged, nonchalant. "His siblings and parents. You've only talked about Jasper—and you mentioned Alice and Rosalie, was it." My statement wasn't a question. I was looking away.

I could feel Bella's breathing shift in direction as she nodded minutely. "Carlisle was the patron, the oldest. He changed Edward first, early this century, Esme next, then Rosalie and finally Emmett. Jasper and Alice came to the family of their own accord."

Bella exhibited only the slightest hesitation when it came to uttering _his_ name, but it was enough. Enough for me to notice. Maybe she wasn't as dead inside as I had thought, which was exactly what I was counting on.

I nodded, eager to learn more, quickly processing all that I heard and saw. "Tell me about each of them," I urged, intrigued. "I want to know everything about them."

Bella almost-frowned. "Why do they matter? I'm only here...for him."

I sighed. This was exactly the thought process I wanted to squash before I consented to change her. If she kept her thoughts on Edward, on becoming a vampire for him, then when she became a vampire herself, she would be empty, shallow, and not fit to be a zombie, much less a sentient creature.

"I want to know everything about _all_ of them," I reiterated, my hard voice almost harsh. I wanted her to wince—for which I felt bad—but she didn't—for which I felt worse.

"I don't understand..." She closed her eyes, as if to block out the cruel, cruel world. "I don't know what to say." Her voice dropped to a whisper that broke my unbeating heart, though it didn't express any feeling that _I_ could detect, and that was saying something.

Or was it? I'm am empath, good with emotions—emotions, the feelings themselves, not just how they do—or do not—affect the body. Which means...I would only detect the mental processing of these emotions. So, if someone's brain was damaged in such a way, or if a vampire had precise control of their own minds...would I sense anything? Or would everything I sense really be me processing what I saw and _thinking_ I sensed what I, perhaps, should sense?

My empathy was a product of my human life intensified. What if this human, Bella Swan, had a mind all her own, cut off from the rest of the world—_immune_ to the superpowers of others?

My eyes widened at the thought. I knew without knowing that I was completely right.

Which didn't help.

I sighed, trying to control my own emotions, move past this rush of feeling to focus on Bella, the only thing I cared about anymore. My business had been shut down since the second she stepped inside; someone would notice that soon enough. Not that it mattered.

"Bella, I would like you to do something with me. An...experiment, if you will. An exercise. Please. I want you to close your eyes and lean your head back."

She shifted the stool to one side slightly and did as I requested of her. She didn't complain about being uncomfortable, as I knew she wouldn't, as I was hoping she would—the endless, repetitive cycle. This lack make me even more determined, as it always did, to succeed in making her better. The sooner, the better.

"Now, start to breathe..." I paused at the irony. At first I smiled. Bella was always breathing—she had to, she was human, she couldn't just forget. Then I frowned. She didn't act human, she wanted to be a vampire; every human thing reminded me of how human she wasn't, and for the first time I actually began to doubt the virtue in granting her her greatest wish. Suddenly, it felt _wrong_...

I had time to stall. First I needed to get back on task. My mind worked so quickly, Bella never even noticed.

"Big, deep breaths. Slowly, inhale and exhale, in and out, out and in—we aren't in any hurry, so just relax, and breathe in, then out..." I watched her closely. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, yet something was wrong. I had seen so many vampires in my life, and yet I had never come closer to meeting one of the living dead, a zombie. "Calm your heart," my voice almost cracked as I started up again, "calm your pulse. Don't think, don't act—relax and feel."

My words unnerved me more than they ever had before—more than they had any right to. I knew why that was, and I didn't like it.

"Now, go back, go back in time, go back through your memories. See the first vampires to ever enter your life..." The only ones to ever enter your life, I mentally amended. _She_ was the one to enter _mine_, after all...and no other ones would have left her alive, as much as she was, anyway.

I admit, with no small amount of shame, that at the time I was trying to hurt her, to break her, to open wounds and make them bleed, to make her feel pain, to cry in anger—it didn't matter. I wanted her to react, and react badly, to show that she was still there. I couldn't feel her, and that made it worse. I had come to rely upon emotions, and not having them there...it hurt me, hurt me so much that I began to hate Bella, in the darkest depths of my heart. It was no longer only her numbness I wanted to heal, but my own. Bella was my newest obsession. For me to ever feel good again, I had to make her feel _something_. My life would be ruined if I didn't succeed.

_Anything_ to fight the numbness that was taking over my own life...

It didn't make any difference. Despite my despicable intentions, the numb remained. Bella never even noticed. I was such a selfish creature. Even as Bella's numbness protected her, it began to destroy me. All I wanted was my own reprieve—I deserved to fail.

In that moment, I truly began to hate myself. And I began to love Bella, as if to make up for it. I never wanted her to know the truth.

Bella's breathing, as I fought this split-second war with myself, had gone deeper and even more even than before she put such trust in a monster like me; it made me sick, but I never faulted her. Never again would I think it was Bella's fault.

"Now...do you remember? Do you remember those vampires?"

"Yes," Bella breathed.

"Who were they?"

"Edward Cullen. And his family. His sister, Alice. His father, Carlisle. His brother, Emmett. Rosalie and Jasper Hale. And Carlisle's wife, Esme."

"Describe them for me."

Silence. Obedient, yet defiant. A pause. Hesitation?

"Let's start with the girls." She would not deter me for long. "Alice and Rosalie."

"They were opposites. Alice was short, petite, fine-boned, her features small, her frame willowy; she moved with inhuman grace, even more than the others, every step a dance, deceptive in her sweetness, a frightening little monster; her hair was short, spiky, black.

"Rosalie was tall, statuesque, intimidating in her beauty, enviable in all that she was, her beauty overwhelming, her figure to kill for, the most beautiful creature in the world; her hair was long, golden; her face was fierce, detached, and frightening."

"Now for the brothers, Jasper and Emmett. I assume that none of them were actually related?" If Bella realized what I was doing, she gave no sign.

"Jasper was tall, the tallest of them, muscular but slender, with honey-blond hair; leonine. Emmett was broad, the burliest of them all, with dark curly hair." It was obvious she wasn't as close to them as she had been to Alice—or as afraid of them as she had been of Rosalie. Girls tend to remember girls better, unless they fall in love, or lust.

"Tell me: where they related like their names suggested?" Note to self: do not overload her with information, she can only process and respond to one statement at a time. At least it would be easy to talk to myself at will.

"No. They weren't."

Dammit. I had to be more specific, it seemed.

"What was their story?"

"Carlisle was a doctor. His wife, Esme, couldn't have children, so she adopted Alice, Edward, and Emmett. Then her 'niece and nephew', the 'twins' Rosalie and Jasper."

"Did they feed off humans?"

"No."

That surprised me. Pleasantly so. I had only ever met a few others who lived the way I did. A group, up in Denali. What a small world ours was, I mused.

"Tell me their stories, from the beginning."

"It all started with Carlisle. He was the oldest, born in London over three hundred and sixty-two years ago. His father was an Anglican pastor who encouraged him to follow in his way of life, searching for evil creatures and killing them. Carlisle found a real vampire coven. He was attacked, he changed. He hated himself, removed himself from humans, tried to kill himself so many times, failed repeatedly. He tried to starve himself to death, and discovered that he could survive by feeding off animals. The conquered his thirst, became a successful doctor, stayed with the Volturi, eventually ended up in America.

"He wanted a companion. During the Spanish influenza epidemic of 1918, he found Edward, dying. His mother demanded that Carlisle save him, and he complied. Edward could read minds. Ten years after that, he rebelled for a few years—he always hated that half of himself.

"By then, Carlisle had found Esme. She had jumped off a cliff in her grief; she had lost a baby. She was still alive, and Carlisle saved her. They fell in love. She was the oldest when changed, always a mother.

"Rosalie hated me. She wanted to be human. She had been attacked, hated being a vampire. She was originally meant for Edward.

"Then she found Emmett. Dying from a bear attack. He thought she was an angel, Carlisle was God. He loved this new life.

"Alice and Jasper came to them from their own paths. Alice woke up without memories of being human. She had lived in an asylum for her visions. She was saved from a tracker named James by an older vampire he killed in vengeance. Her visions showed her Jasper, and Carlisle's family. She found Jasper, then Carlisle. She sees the future.

"Jasper feels and influences emotions. He was the most susceptible to blood. He was always a calming influence, detached from the others somewhat, closest to Alice, only there for her. Much less involved..."

Bella trailed off, leaving so many questions unanswered, created by her story. I forced myself not to ask about Jasper; I had to remind myself that this was about her, not me. _But to control emotions...to feel, to influence the physical? Wow..._

"Why did they live that way?" My question was soft, much softer than the others. I was staring at the ground, feeling overwhelmed, almost...

"They didn't want to be monsters. Carlisle never even slipped."

"Did the others?"

"They all did, naturally. I don't know much. Edward did on purpose..." Her knowledge was obviously a bit incomplete.

I moved on. "Describe Edward for me, now."

I watched Bella closely. I didn't expect to see a reaction, simply because by that time I was losing hope. I was right not to suspect anything. There was no change that I was perceptive enough to see.

"He had the face of an angel, just as beautiful as Rosalie, if not more so. His hair was bronze, a bit messy, and he had the most beautiful crooked smile. Next to his brothers he appeared lanky, but in reality—compared to me, at least—he was really tall and very muscular. His voice was that of an angel, velvet smooth, his skin alabaster granite..."

I froze, staring, unable to move or speak or even think. Bella's voice had softened, her face peaceful, passively...happy, almost. It was the first time she had referred to herself directly, that I could currently remember.

I knew it couldn't last. It wouldn't. Now wasn't the time to stop and allow something worse than numbness to sink in, as I believed it would.

It was as if, since I couldn't see her eyes, Bella's face held more expression, her remaining humanity oozing forth, encouraged by memories I couldn't see of her beloved Edward...

"How did they enter your life?"

"Edward came first. Not by his choice, but then he couldn't stay away. Alice and I became best friends. Some unfortunate events brought me closer to her, and to Emmett, to Carlisle and Esme in time.

"Rosalie never liked me. Jasper kept his distance. Emmett was like an older brother, Esme like a mother. Carlisle was one of the first to side with Edward and accept me as a part of the family.

"They loved me...some of them, anyway."

I nodded, though she couldn't see—not that it would matter if she could.

"Why did Jasper have to keep his distance?"

"He was newest to their way of life, and had developed very bad habits in as many years before joining the Cullen family."

"Was that why they left?"

She half-ignored my question, the most active thing she had done yet, aside from come to me in the first place. "On my eighteenth birthday I got a papercut opening a present and he tried to attack me. Edward pushed me back to get me out of the way, and I fell into a stack of glass plates, slicing my arm open."

Bella held up her arm, underside facing upwards, eyes still closed. A thin, almost invisible white line existed on her already pale skin from the crease of her elbow to her wrist.

It didn't escape my attention that she didn't finish the story.

"I still don't understand the family, not completely. You need to tell me more." Irritation gave my words a sharp edge.

Bella didn't react. She remained blank. It was as if she had shut off—I was half-sure that she had fallen asleep. I sighed; usually I was a patient person. I had to control the urge to lash out, to roar and break something.

So many questions, so much knowledge, yet so little progress!

Or so I thought.

"Thank you, Bella," I whispered. "You may open your eyes now."

She did, and I almost fell over. They were so light! Milk chocolate, instead of dark. Was I going crazy? How could this be?

They were so peaceful. She seemed to be at peace.

Bella looked up, towards the sky. She didn't smile, but she might as well have, she was so sweet-looking.

"It's dark out," she observed softly, as if nothing had occured. "Let's go inside. I need to get something to eat."


End file.
